


My Fingers Laced to Crown

by Squidbittles



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Anal Sex, Arranged Marriage, Blow Jobs, Cabin Fic, Fluff, Frottage, Happy Ending, M/M, Mild Angst, Modern Royalty, Mpreg, Unplanned Pregnancy, conception issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-29
Updated: 2017-06-29
Packaged: 2018-11-18 22:22:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11300049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Squidbittles/pseuds/Squidbittles
Summary: It's been ten years since Canada's Crown Prince Sidney Crosby married Prince Evgeni Malkin, and they've found a love they never expected. Despite their best efforts, however, they remain heirless.Amid mounting frustration and pressure from the public, they escape to the north for a much-needed delayed honeymoon in the hopes of finding a solution to the problem of succession.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [teljhin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/teljhin/gifts).



> For my Sid/Geno Exchange recipient, Teljhin, who gave me a boatload of amazing prompts to work with! I tried to get a little of several of them in here - I hope you enjoy, this was a blast to write!

 

 

They marry on a gorgeous day in late May. Sidney had always wanted a spring wedding - his husband, a summer ceremony. It is, Sidney expects, the first of many compromises they’ll make for the sake of both their union and the union of their countries. 

 

Their marriage is purely political - a bid to build ties between Canada and Russia. His husband-to-be is tall. It’s easily the first thing Sidney notices about the man as he looks up and up, into a face that is not classically handsome. Still, there’s a kindness about him that Sidney finds deeply appealing, and makes him think that maybe their marriage has a chance to become something more than just a political alliance. Evgeni’s hands are warm against Sid’s; his eyes soft even as his smile betrays the same nervousness that Sid can feel threading through his guts.

 

When they seal their vows with a kiss, it’s a small, tender thing, and Sid lets himself hope. One day, he’s sure it will be more.

 

***

 

“I think the natives are getting restless, Your Highness.” Flower’s voice floats past the dossier Sid’s been staring at for the past hour. He feels a little guilty for how quickly he puts down the document. It’s  _ important _ , but he can’t seem to focus on it - a revision of a revision of a summary on Alberta’s canola production is never going to be the most riveting thing.

 

“That’s not very nice, Marc.”

 

Flower’s smile doesn’t dim, but they’ve known each other long enough that Sid can read the strain around the edges. “It’s not meant to be.” He waves another packet of papers at Sid. “Do you know what these are?”

 

Sid doesn’t bother responding. 

 

“These are the most recent polls.”

 

“Okay?” Sid asks. Marc just waves them again, and Sid rolls his eyes. “What do the polls say?” 

 

He snaps the papers again and clears his throat. “Well, grain and oil are up; tourism is booming in Vancouver; 58% of Canadians believe that we need to convince the NHL to bring another team to Toronto. 64.6% want confirmation that the money smells like maple syrup.” Sid rolls his eyes again because that’s been a Thing for months now. “Oh, and my favorite part - a whopping 70% of your country believes that either you or your husband are impotent.”

 

“I’m sorry,  _ what _ ?”

 

“I think you heard me.”

 

“That’s - that’s no one’s business but ours!” He can feel his face heating, a peculiar mix of anger and shame twisting in his stomach.

 

Marc tsks. “Come on now,  _ Your Highness _ . You know there are certain expectation from the monarchy - and one of those is to produce an heir one way or another.”

 

“There’s still plenty of time for that,” Sid says stiffly. 

 

Flower’s expression softens, and Sid doesn’t want his pity, not for this. “Look, Sidney. I know it’s not something that you want to have dictated for you - of all things this  _ should _ be private. But it’s not private, not for you. And -” he stops, shifts uncomfortably. “Moreover, Sergei says there have been some reports from Russia.”

 

He’s afraid that he already knows, but Sid asks, “What reports?”

 

“Well, some seem to think that you deliberately haven’t gotten your husband pregnant because you intend to break ties with Russia. The other half seem to think that it’s Geno’s fault and that you need to leave him for a younger model who’s fertile and can properly solidify the alliance.”

 

Sid feels like he’s been punched in the chest. “Did you or Sergei tell Geno this?” If he feels gutted, he can only imagine how this kind of news will make his husband feel. It’s not - they’ve  _ tried _ .

 

“Not yet. I didn’t want either of you to be blindsided by this, though so sooner rather than later.”

 

Sid sighs a shaky, bitter thing. “So it’s on the news, then?”

 

“CBC’s trying to run something, maybe a couple more outlets.” Flower’s smile twists. “It’s not - this isn’t a new angle, but with the stuff coming out of Russia I think it’s about to blow up.” Sid closes his eyes. “I think your husband’s stalking the kitchens again if you want to go find him,” Flower offers gently.

 

“I think I will.” It’s not a conversation that he wants to have with Geno, but he’d rather it be him broaching the subject than Geno deciding to turn on the television and seeing their fertility called into question like this.

 

“That’s a great idea, sir. I’ll be working on our plan of attack.”

 

Sid doesn’t give much thought to Marc’s parting words - instead he focuses on finding his husband.

 

Geno is indeed in the kitchens, and Sid gives himself a moment, standing in the doorway, to just look at his husband. It’s been ten years, and sometimes - when he hasn’t slept in what feels like weeks, when he’s been stuck in meeting after meeting - exhausted and distracted - it feels like they were married just yesterday. Like they’re still on tenterhooks around each other, trying to figure out if they could make a life together out of a political convenience.  

 

Other times, Sid gets to stand here and watch his husband make their 5:00pm snacks like he insists on doing every day he can, and it feels like a lifetime since he took Geno’s hand in marriage, like they’ve always fallen together seamlessly.

 

Sid eventually clears his throat, and Geno glances over his shoulder with a little smile. “I’m wonder how long you gonna stand there.”

 

“I like watching you work,” Sid defends, feeling his mood lift.

 

“Mmhm. Know what you watch.” He shakes his ass a little bit, going back to spreading Sid’s jam, and Sid laughs, moving the rest of the way into the kitchen. He wraps his arms around his husband’s waist and rests his forehead between Geno’s shoulder blades. Geno hums a little, and Sid can feel it in his skull. “Flower have bad reports for you?”

 

Sid exhales. He doesn’t want to stir up feelings they’ve both struggled with since they got married. First, they hadn’t wanted to spend their first few years together navigating marriage  _ and _ parenthood. Then they’d reasoned that they had time for children later. But it’s been ten years now, and Geno still hasn’t conceived.

 

“Siiiiid,” Geno says, wiggling against him. The absence of progeny certainly hasn’t been from lack of effort on either of their parts. Sid tightens his grip on Geno’s waist, who just sighs and turns in Sid’s arms. “Come on. Time for sandwiches and you can tell me everything.”

 

Sid releases him and takes his plate from Geno, following him to the little table tucked away in a corner of the kitchen. Sid’s been eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches at this table since he was old enough to learn how to ask the kitchen staff for them. It took Geno six months to figure out where Sid disappeared to every afternoon, and soon he was joining Sid for his own bread and jelly concoction.

 

Geno lets him get about halfway through his sandwich before he presses the issue. “So, what the media do now? What do they say about me has you so upset?”

 

And trust Geno to pick up on it so quickly. Sid swallows. “The people are starting to get worried that we don’t have an heir yet.”

 

Geno takes a bite of his own sandwich, looking deceptively calm. “They say I’m…” he struggles a little for the word, “бесплодный?”

 

“I told Flower that it didn’t matter - that it wasn’t anyone else’s business if we didn’t have kids yet.”

 

“Sid,” Geno says softly, chiding. “We need -  _ you _ need heir. I’m try - maybe something is wrong.”

 

“There is  _ nothing _ wrong with you,” Sid snaps.

 

“Maybe you trade me in for hot young thing.” Geno says it with a grin, but his eyes are shuttered, and Sid pales, thinking of all the terrible, shitty rumors and suppositions Marc had relayed to him earlier. 

 

“Geno, no. I would  _ never  _ -”

 

“Shh, is bad joke, Sid. Maybe...” he trails off. “I’m still want to try, but maybe adoption?”

 

Sid takes Geno’s free hand and squeezes. “Yeah, maybe so.”

 

***

 

They lay in bed that evening, Geno struggling to stay awake over one of his favored romance novels, and Sid content to snuggle down next to him. He lets his mind drift a little to tomorrow’s schedule, building his own mental map of the day to go along with the itinerary he’ll receive in the morning from Flower.

 

In the dim quiet of their room, it’s easier for Sid to acknowledge the doubts swirling through his mind. 

 

“What if there’s something wrong with me, Zhenya? You deserve to have kids of your own.”

 

“Oh, Sid.” Geno’s voice is fond, exasperated - the words ones he’s said hundreds of times over the years. “I’m want kids with you, Sid. Not just kids. I’m pregnant, we adopt, hell,  _ you _ pregnant - they be mine,  _ ours _ . Don’t care if blood or not. Just want with you.”

 

Sid closes his eyes, and cuddles in a little closer. “I love you.”

 

“Love you, too. Stupid,” Geno says, pressing his lips against Sid’s head.

 

***

 

The first thing Sid reads the next morning is,  **_“Trouble in Royal Paradise?”_ ** on the front page of the  _ Toronto Star _ , along with a picture of Sid and Geno standing next to each other - Geno looking mulish and Sid’s face the careful kind of blank he tends to wear when dealing with the media. He can’t remember where they were or what they were doing, but it doesn’t really matter because it  _ looks _ damning.

 

Geno looks over his shoulder as he takes his seat. “ _ Tch _ . Outside of Annual Media Dinner - two years ago?” He doctors his tea with enough sugary jam that Sid’s teeth ache in sympathy. “Right after...what’s name - Rossi? Got kicked out because he an ass.”

 

Sid vaguely recalls it, but he’d be lying if he said that the majority of the dinners and balls they attended didn’t run together. “If you say so,” he says, sipping his coffee.

 

“He tried to start a fight,” Geno says blandly, and that definitely doesn’t sound right. “Said that your ass was too fat for the throne and I’m get Tanger to throw him out.”

 

“He did  _ not _ .”

 

“You don’t know. You don’t remember.”

 

“Ugh,” Sid complains, but his lips quirk up regardless. He knows that this isn’t something he should be upset over - the media has said a thousand and one terrible things about him since he took the throne, and just because they write it, doesn’t make it true. He  _ knows _ that.

 

Still, he starts scanning the article covertly until Geno plucks it out of his hands and tosses it across the room. It lands half in and half out of the recycling bin. “What do you tell me about reading garbage?”

 

“Don’t,” Sid mutters.

 

“You have Flower to read for you.”

 

“Fine,” he capitulates and starts in on his breakfast. 

 

Ignoring it is easier said than done, though. For all that Sid tries to avoid the ridiculous headlines, it’s hard not to see them, and it seems like the vast majority have split into the same two factions that Flower had mentioned the evening before. Either he’s deliberately sabotaging the Russian alliance by not knocking up his husband, or Geno has failed to live up to his rumored fertility and should be replaced immediately.

 

Like any rumor, they’re ridiculous and unfounded. But despite Marc-Andre’s insistence that he was working on a plan, they don’t stop. What Sid found embarrassing and grating initially slowly becomes infuriating, and it’s all that he can do to not snap at every reporter who dares to ask him about his marriage.

 

It’s not a good look, and he knows that, but Sid can’t seem to let it go. 

 

Geno seems willing to laugh it off initially, but as the days drag on and more outlets want to lay the blame on him, he begins to withdraw. Sid catches Geno reading articles in Russian that he can’t hope to translate, but that he’s sure are only making things worse. They don’t talk about adoption again, but they haven’t been talking about anything - Sid is too frustrated to feel like he can have a rational conversation, and Geno too consumed with guilt. For the first time, Sid genuinely wishes that  _ he _ had the ability to carry a child. It would make things easier, but then he would never have been wed to Geno, and that’s a price Sid isn’t willing to pay. 

 

At night they curl up together on the bed, and Sid lets himself have that at least - tries to soothe Geno’s heart with his touch if he can’t seem to find the words.

 

***

 

A week and some change after the first article comes out, their breakfasts have become a stilted affair. Any ease they find together in the night is gone in the morning, and it reminds Sid of the first couple of months of their marriage. Then, unfamiliarity and a language barrier drove the awkwardness between them. Now, Sid has no one to blame but himself. 

 

They’re splitting a carafe of coffee this morning, hands carefully not touching, when Flower sweeps into the room, looking incredibly pleased with himself. Jen is a few steps behind him, engrossed with her tablet. Flower and Jen tend to tag-team Sid and Geno wrangling duties, and usually Jen generally gets Geno because otherwise Flower and Geno will just snipe at each other mercilessly and nothing will get done. It hasn’t been as much of an issue lately.

 

“Gentlemen, I have a solution to our little media nightmare.”

 

Sid stills.  “Good  _ morning _ , Flower. Did you sleep well? I slept fine, thank you. Good morning, Jen.”

 

“That is fantastic to hear, Your Highness. You’re going to sleep even better tonight,” Flower grins, sharp and too bright for 8:00am. Jen just waves a little and goes back to whatever has her so intent on her tablet. 

 

Geno leans forward, eyes sharp. “Is it burning down press pool?” There’s a glint there that has Sid a little concerned, but it’s been so long since he’s seen it, he almost doesn’t mind.

 

“Not yet, but if this doesn’t work, I will strongly consider it.”

 

“What have you done, Flower?” Sid asks.

 

“It’s not what  _ I’m _ doing, it’s what  _ you’re _ doing.”

 

“Marc-Andre.”

 

“You may have noticed that the world thinks your marriage is falling apart and that one or both of you are barren.”

 

“ _ Marc _ ,” Sid snaps because he  _ can’t  _ \- 

 

Flower actually stops for a moment, notices for the first time Sid’s clenched fist and the white-knuckled grip Geno has on his mug.

 

“So,” Jen cuts in, her voice level and perfectly professional, “their king and his consort will be taking a nice, relaxing vacation away from the stress of ruling to rekindle their romance.”

 

It feels like all the air in his lungs leaves at once. “I - we can’t just up and  _ leave _ right now. How does that look to the citizens? I - “

 

“Is perfect, Sid,” Geno says, looking genuinely excited for the first time in a week, and Sid had  _ missed _ that.

 

“We’re billing it as a ten-year anniversary celebration for the country,” Jen continues.

 

“And the honeymoon our beloved rulers never got,” Marc adds, all smiles.

 

The thing is, despite Sid’s initial misgivings, it really is kind of perfect. To a public increasingly inundated with reports that their leaders’ marriage is in danger, a delayed honeymoon is the perfect way to show their commitment to not only their marriage, but also to Canada and Russia’s alliance. 

 

More importantly, Sid and Geno will be able to just relax together, to clear the poisoned air between them. Sid also can’t deny the appeal of an actual vacation, disconnected from the world for just a little bit. He still wants to object, but it’s more of a token protest. He’s never just...not been available to his people, never really just taken time for himself. It isn’t completely unheard of - there was precedent for monarchs from a variety of places taking a vacation - he’s just never considered it before.

 

In the end, it doesn’t take much convincing at all.

 

They end up arguing about where to go more than anything else. Flower and Sid insist on somewhere remote and northern. Geno holds out for something more tropical.

 

“I don’t want you to be somewhere where the press are going to be able to find you and bother you,” Flower insists. “Most of the mainstream outlets might respect your need for marital privacy, but it could be less than desireable for the  _ National Query  _ or whatever to come snooping.”

 

“Could go to a private island for that. Warm...sun, sand, those swim trunks I’m like…” Geno wheedles. Sid flushes and tries not to think of Geno’s swimwear, which qualify as “trunks” but only barely. It’s the most animated Sid has seen Geno in ages, and he wants to give in, but -

 

“Doesn’t that seem a little ostentatious for just the two of us? I know we’re on the other end of the recession, but that’s not setting a very responsible example.”

 

“But island is so private, romantic - perfect for fixing marriage,” Geno says.

 

Sid flinches because it feels too real, and Geno winces. He reaches across the table, touch tentative against Sid’s hand. Sid swallows and squeezes Geno’s hand. 

 

“But our marriage isn’t in danger,” he finally says. “It would be dishonest to the Canadian people.”

 

“Marriage gonna be in trouble we go to fucking...Yukon,” Geno mutters, but his hand remains in Sid’s, warm and solid.

 

“Don’t worry, it won’t be the Yukon,” Jen interjects, glancing up from her tablet. She looks incredibly satisfied. “But we  _ do _ need positive optics on Canada,  _ especially _ if you two are supposed to be on the brink of dissolving your union, or whatever it is Rossi’s reporting. You know what can always use a boost?”

 

“Tourism,” Flower finishes. Geno groans and Sid hides a pleased smile. They’re going to the snowy white north.

 

***

 

Geno does get his private island, but Sid gets his Canadian wilderness getaway. It’s freezing when they step off the plane - far enough north that spring is still a distant dream in early April. The cabins they’ve rented out are at least accessible by truck until the thaw - three little log structures nestled along the lakeshore that their security detail will take over. The island itself is nestled in a little lake cove, close enough that it’s accessible from the shore by a wide raised walkway.

 

Even without the snow and ice, Geno doesn’t generally enjoy the feeling of total isolation. He’s so grateful for the chance to get away from everything though, that he finds he doesn’t mind as much as he thought he might. The last week he’s felt like he’s been carrying around a ball of lead in his chest. It gets a little lighter with every mile they put between themselves and the capital, every smile that crosses Sid’s face.

 

Sid of course, loves it. 

 

They unload the trucks when they arrive, first stocking the cabins Duper and Tanger’s team of six will be staying in.

 

“Some vacation,” Geno teases, poking at Sid with a fishing pole he finds tucked away. “Make me do all the heavy lifting.” 

 

“It’s just because I like watching you pick stuff up,” Sid grins, and Geno barks out a laugh. Sid’s already so much more relaxed than he’s seen him anywhere but in their personal chambers, and Geno thinks that this trip will be worth it if only for that.

 

“You should be picking up - ass much better.” Geno gives him a playful smack as Sid moves past with a little extra swagger in his step.

 

“Oh my god,” Duper groans. “I swear we can unload everything else, please try to keep it in your pants until we leave, love birds.”

 

Tanger just wolf-whistles. Sid doesn’t even have the grace to look embarrassed.

 

They unload the supplies for Sid and Geno’s cabin next, Tanger and Duper gently teasing them both as they open the cabin up and get the supplies situated. Geno would push back a little more, but he’s honestly too enamoured of Sid’s restless giddiness, too pleased with their rediscovered comfort with each other. 

 

The bulk of their supplies is food stuffs, carefully curated between Sid and their head chef Dumoulin. Sid had carefully outlined some of the stuff he wanted to cook while they were away, steadily growing more excited by the prospect, and Geno always knew that Sid  _ could _ cook, he just didn’t often have the time or energy to do so. Every once in awhile, usually on a birthday or their anniversary, he’d commandeer the kitchen and bake for Geno. It was one of the things that first made Geno fall in love with his husband.

 

“I’m still make snack,” is the only stipulation Geno has, content to let Sid shoulder that responsibility. 

 

“Well, obviously.” Sid’s response is automatic.

 

“Maybe breakfast if you nice,” Geno adds magnanimously. It’s about the only other thing he feels confident enough to cook. Sid laughs, and it echoes through the cabin’s rafters.

 

It doesn’t take long to put everything away - Tanger puts away the food while Duper brings in extra wood and Sid gets the fire started. Geno focuses on getting their suitcases into the bedroom and their clothes in drawers because neither of them enjoy the feeling of living out of a suitcase. It also gives him the chance to hideaway the skates he’d snuck into their luggage. By the time Geno’s done, the cabin is warming up nicely and Tanger is handing them both walkie-talkies. 

 

“There is some cell service out here,” he says, “but this will be faster in case anything comes up. Make sure one is fully charged at all times, and that they’re always on. We will be doing patrols in shifts for the duration of your stay, and we’ll periodically check in. Any questions?” They both shake their heads. “Good! Have a good time!”

 

“Don’t let us hear you fucking,” Duper adds irreverently from the doorway. He’s gone before Sid can say anything, and Tanger is close on his heels, shutting the door behind him with an egregious wink and a thumbs up.

 

“Uggggh,” Sid mutters. “I ought to suspend him.”

 

Geno shuffles up behind Sid. He hesitates for a moment before wrapping his arms around him. “You would not,” he says. “He knows you since you both little. You like it.”

 

Sid twists enough to pout at Geno. “He doesn’t have to know that.”

 

“I’m think it’s a little late for that,” Geno chuckles. “Maybe we pay him back later?” He slides his hands a little lower, fingers drifting from Sid’s taut stomach to the waistband of his tailored jeans. 

 

Sid squirms in his arms, “Yeah?” His voice is a little tentative, and Geno hates the tension that has grown between them, hates that Sid could ever doubt how much Geno loves him, how much he wants him.

 

“Maybe we accidentally leave button on radio.” He mouths along Sid’s jaw, sets his teeth gently against his earlobe, and Sid shudders perfectly in his arms.

 

“That would be... _ ah _ ,  _ Geno _ . That would be rude.”

 

“Yessss,” Geno agrees, focused on the way Sid feels against him, on how to unbutton all the stupid buttons on Sid’s jeans. They look so good, but he still wishes these pants had a zipper instead. Sid brushes his hands away and unbuttons his jeans in one swift motion. Geno would grumble, except that Sid’s shimmying out of his jeans, and that is one of Geno’s favorite things. 

 

His black boxer briefs cling obscenely to his ass and thighs, and Geno licks his lips. “G - “ Sid’s voice cuts through the fog descending over his brain.

 

“Mm?”

 

“Pants, G,” Sid demands, and there will be time later for them to carefully undress each other - he doesn’t think either of them have the patience to wait right now. Geno shucks his pants and underwear in one go, and tries to kick them aside, tripping over his feet in the process. Sid laughs, and Geno chuckles along with him because it’s ridiculous, and he likes being able to laugh at silly stuff like this. 

 

“Come here,” he growls, flinging shirt and sweater off too. Fully naked, he stares challengingly at Sid, who looks a little breathless now. 

 

“Yeah,” Sid breathes, and then Geno’s got an armful of pantsless husband. Together, they strip Sid out of his underwear, Geno’s fingers lingering over the swell of Sid’s ass. He considers tugging Sid with him into the bedroom, but Sid’s rid himself of his shirt and Geno gets distracted long enough that Sid tackles him back over the arm of the couch.

 

The wind leaves him as he sinks into the cushions, and Sid’s a warm weight over him. Geno loves being taller than Sid, loves being able to tuck Sid under his arm, rest his lips against Sid’s temple. But he also  _ loves _ the feeling of Sid blanketing him, his solid body exuding heat and strength. Geno likes being pinned, likes knowing that Sid could keep him there for as long as he wanted.

 

For a long moment, they just lay there, Sid’s breath warm against his collarbone. Geno contemplates making Sid go find the lube they packed - he wants to get fucked...or maybe to fuck Sid, he’s not sure which right now. But some of their earlier frenzy has died down, and the thought of just grinding against each other on the couch like horny teenagers is oddly appealing, too. Geno licks his lips and bucks his hips gently. “Siiid.”

 

Sid sets his teeth gently against Geno’s collarbone and  _ bites _ , and that isn’t playing fair. “Yeah, G?” His voice is gratifyingly breathy, and he rocks his hips - the friction is just this side of too much, skin still a little too dry, and Geno reaches between them, wrapping his hand around Sid’s dick.

 

“Want you,” he murmurs, stroking Sid carefully. Geno brushes his thumb over the slit, spreading sticky-slick precum across Sid’s cockhead, down the shaft. He tightens his grip just a little, and Sid shudders against him.

 

“Want you, too.” Sid anchors a hand on Geno’s hip. “Wanna fuck you, Zhenya,” he says, voice hitching as Geno continues jacking him off so, so slowly.

 

Geno groans at the sound of his nickname on Sid’s tongue. “I’m - yes. Later?” Sid’s dick is slick in his hand, and Geno wiggles, spreading his legs just wide enough so that he can slot Sid’s dick between his thighs. “Just, like this now, yeah?” 

 

Sid nods, and Geno squeezes his thighs together, relishes in the way Sid’s dick feels - hard and soft in equal measure - against the tender skin of his groin. Sid curses quietly, his mouth working against Geno’s shoulder. His hand slips from Geno’s hip to rest against the small of his back, and reflexively, Sid pulls his husband closer. 

 

Geno can feel the tension threaded through Sid’s body, and he starts moving his hips a little. It's like watching a dam break. Sid makes a noise, high pitched and needy, and starts to move, fucking into the channel of Geno's thighs. All the desperation from earlier is back in full force, and Geno rolls his hips into the motion, frantic for the feeling of Sid’s cock glancing against his sack, aching for just a little bit more - neither of them have a prayer of lasting. Sid stifles his cry into the meat of Geno’s shoulder as he comes, and Geno gets an awkward hand on himself a moment later, fisting his cock frantically as Sid’s come begins to dry. A moment later, he spatters Sid’s stomach and they both slump together, completely boneless. 

 

Geno can already feel the massive hickey throbbing on his shoulder, and his ass is definitely in the wet spot, but it's still a long time before either of them move. 

 

“We’re gonna to have to clean the couch,” Sid mumbles into Geno’s skin. Geno groans and rolls his eyes a little bit. “I’m not making someone else clean up our jizz, G.”

 

“Mostly yours on the couch,” Geno points out helpfully. “Messy.”

 

“You’re the  _ worst _ and we’re starting to stick together,” Sid declares and starts levering himself up.

 

“You love.” The words slip out habitually, and for a second, he’s worried that they’re not there yet, but Sid offers him a small smile.

 

“Yeah, I do.”

 

Geno smiles back, and squeezes Sid’s hips with his thighs. Personally, he’d like to stay cuddled a little more, but the couch and the angle aren’t exactly the most comfortable, and Sid’s got a point about being sticky. “We use bed next time,” he groans, letting Sid tug him upright. They can probably still salvage the couch if they get some warm paper towels in the next minute or two.

 

“Ugh, I  _ told _ you we could go to the bedroom.” Sid turns on the hot water in the kitchen sink, trying to hide his smile. Geno grabs a few paper towels and doesn’t bother hiding his appreciation of Sid’s bare ass in the kitchen. 

 

He dampens the towels as soon as the water’s warm enough. “Yes, so smart. Go get us some clean clothes and start the shower,  _ Your Highness _ . I’m clean up your mess,” he says, then smacks Sid’s ass hard enough that it echoes.

 

Sid tries to glare, but pecks Geno on the lips before scampering off to the bedroom. Geno feels the last lingering tightness in his chest start to dissipate, and he makes a show of  grumbling before getting to work on the couch.

 

***

 

The fire’s mostly died down by the time they’re clean and reclothed, and the last light of the afternoon has faded into dusk.

 

“I was thinking maybe we could do, uh -” Sid blushes a little. “You wanna have KD for dinner?”

 

Geno’s mouth twitches. “I’m think you have all these fancy dinner plans for vacation, Sid. KD is fancy, now?” 

 

“No! I mean, I can make something else, I just thought that it’s easy and we had a long day today -”

 

Geno can hear that particular combination of unsure defensiveness in Sid’s voice, and that’s exactly the opposite of what he wants. He pulls Sid in against his chest quickly, dismayed at the stiffness of Sid’s spine. “I’m just tease, baby. I’m like anything you make because you make it for me.”

 

“I can make something else - I have other stuff to make.” Sid relaxes a little, but he’s still not entirely comfortable, and Geno has known his husband since he was twenty and Sid was nineteen, and he’s always struggled to understand how Sid - confident, ambitious, level-headed Sid - can have these moments of utter insecurity.

 

Geno still doesn’t completely get it, but he doesn’t have to. He just needs to be that person that Sid can trust with himself. He shudders to think at how close they might have come to losing that trust.

 

“Nope. We KD. You gonna teach me to make it?”

 

Sid laughs a little. “I think even you can manage KD, G. You don’t need me to teach you.”

 

Geno sways them a little bit, gently walking Sid backwards into the kitchen area. “Nooo. I’m need to learn from you. Is like - вареники or PBJs? Food for comfort.”

 

Sid flushes again. “Yeah, kind of. Mom would always make it for me my first night home from boarding school. It’s silly.”

 

Geno smacks a kiss against Sid’s temple. “Not silly if you like. Teach me.”

 

Sid clears his throat and Geno lets him go. “I like baseball and you think it’s silly,” he says, deflecting as he pulls down a pot hanging from the rack.

 

Geno rolls his eyes at that. “Sports opinions don’t count, Sid. You know that. And baseball is the silliest.”

 

“That’s just because you like football.”

 

“We just gonna have to agree on hockey, I guess,” Geno sighs, parking himself on one of the barstools at the kitchen island. 

 

“I guess so,” Sid giggles. “How terrible.”

 

“You’re right, Canadiens  _ are _ terrible.” 

 

Sid makes and offended noise, filling up the pot. It’s easy to sit  as Sid works, alternating between narrating how to make the Queen Mother’s special KD recipe and bickering about hockey. There’s no talk about pipelines in Alberta or the newest nonsense coming from America, no briefings about the next State dinner - it’s criminally easy to pretend that they’re just a regular couple on vacation. 

 

Geno doesn’t often wonder what their lives would be like if they were private citizens. Logically he knows he probably wouldn’t have met Sid if that were the case, but he likes to pretend sometimes that they would have. That somewhere in another reality, Sid’s….a teacher or a firefighter and maybe he’s a zookeeper. Maybe they met playing beer league. He hopes they’d be as happy as Sid and Geno are here, in this little cabin kitchen. 

 

“You okay, G?” Sid asks, pausing from stirring in the cheese powder. He’s not frowning, but his brows are knit together in concern.

 

“Hm? Am fine.”

 

“Your stomach doesn’t hurt, does it? I’m sure we have something around here - “

 

Geno pales a little, and moves his hand from where it’d been resting against his abdomen. He hadn’t even realized - “No, Sid. Just hungry. Powdered cheese smell so good.”

 

“Oh, ha ha. It’ll be ready soon. You wanna grab some bowls?”

 

“Sure.”

 

He hadn’t known what to expect entering into his marriage to the Crown Prince of Canada, but to be as happy, as in love, as they’ve been has been a blessing. But he wonders if they could be happier if his goddamn womb would just cooperate. 

 

***

 

The first full day of their vacation, Sid wakes up at 5:00am like he does every morning. The sky is already starting to lighten, and he lays there for a little while listening to Geno snore softly. He kind of wants to go back to sleep, but his body is too conditioned to the early wake up, and he finally swings his legs over the edge of the bed, right foot hitting the chilled floor first. He debates between a hot shower and hot coffee, and the coffee wins out.

 

He kind of enjoys the hush of pre-dawn, especially when he knows it’s not about to be broken by Flower bursting into their suite with the morning reports. The ashes are mostly cold in the fireplace, and Sid ponders starting another fire once he gets the coffee going. It’ll be cozy, and he thinks Geno will enjoy the extra warmth. 

 

There’s a French press tucked away in one of the cabinets and a kettle on the stove, and Sid stares out the window over the sink as the water boils, the sun starting to touch the frozen surface of the lake. He loses himself in the routine of the morning. Sid loves being king, loves his people and his country, and he’s used to the media and the scrutiny, but he knows himself well enough to know that he’ll never truly be comfortable being in the spotlight.

 

He treasures these moments when he gets to unplug, few and far between as they are. But no distractions means that Sid’s also left alone with his thoughts. It’s easy to feel like he and Geno are back to their normal selves, but Sid knows that at some point he’s going to have to acknowledge and deal with the insecurities that brought them here. 

 

For now though, he gets the fire going while the coffee steeps, and by the time Geno stumbles out of the bedroom, looking vaguely disgruntled, Sid’s got his coffee doctored and is settled in on the shockingly clean couch with a book.

 

“Coffee’s on the counter,” Sid says. “I thought you might want something stronger than tea today.” Geno vaguely flaps a hand at him in appreciation. 

 

He plops down on the couch a few moments later, and Sid moves his feet just enough so that they don’t get sat on. He rests his soles on Geno’s thigh, letting the warm soak through. 

 

“Miss you in bed,” Geno says once he’s through about half his cup of coffee. “Think maybe you be lazy on vacation.”

 

“Sorry, couldn’t sleep.”

 

Geno sighs, but he doesn’t look upset. “Should have known your routines don’t change.”

 

“It’s not a routine, it’s a  _ habit _ ,” he argued half-heartedly.

 

“Mhm. You still put right foot down first?”

 

“I don’t have to answer that.” Sid keeps his attention focused on his book. Geno’s quiet for long enough that Sid gives up and looks over at him. Geno’s grin is the definition of shit-eating. 

 

“I’m know the answer,” he sing-songs.

 

Sid huffs and pokes Geno’s thigh. “Well, maybe if you wear me out first I’ll sleep in.”

 

Geno’s eyes darken. “Sid -” 

 

Sid’s chin goes up and he licks his lips. “Yeah?”

 

“You gonna kill me.”

 

“Only a little bit,” Sid promises. 

 

Geno grins at him, and it’s nice to know that they could have sex right now if they wanted to, but if they don’t, there will still be time for it later. They don’t  _ have _ to limit themselves to quickies if they don’t want to. “If you good, maybe I’m blow you later.”

 

Sid bites his lip. “If I’m  _ really _ good, how about you fuck me, instead?”

 

“Can’t make a baby like that,” Geno teases, his free hand covering Sid’s thigh. He’s glad that Geno can make the joke because Sid’s not sure he can just yet. He’ll get there, though.

 

“Well I mean, we could  _ try _ . We’ve got a whole week.” Geno laughs and kisses him for that, and Sid hums happily into it, trying to slip Geno a little tongue, but his husband pulls back and takes another sip of his coffee. Sid absolutely doesn’t pout in the wake of Geno smirking at him. “G -”

 

“Nope. Still drinking my coffee, Sid,” he teases. Sid groans, but gets up to refresh his own cup. 

 

***

 

It’s easy to let the day slip away; Sid gets caught up in his novel while Geno alternates between napping and reading his own book. Occasionally, Sid will get up to stoke the fire, and he’ll catch Geno watching him, eyes blown dark, and it sends shivers down Sid’s spine. Duper radios to check on them around noon, and Geno takes a break to get up and make them sandwiches for lunch. He brings them back to the couch, but refuses to give Sid his sandwich until Sid kisses him, long and deep and slow.

 

But he never pushes it any further, seemingly content to just tease Sid. He finds himself strangely okay with it, leaning into lingering touches and kisses that should be chaste, but that only serve to ramp up Sid’s libido. 

 

“I was thinking about going for a run tomorrow,” Sid says idly. They’ve bundled up and are enjoying their 5:00 pm snacks on the front porch. He hasn’t done anything all day except read his book and get a series of erections that Geno won’t do anything about. He can’t manage that level of inactivity for much more than a day, but for the start of their vacation, it’s absolutely perfect. 

 

Geno shoots him a look. “It’s cold and you hate run.”

 

“Not  _ that  _ cold. And not  _ always _ .” Geno raises an eyebrow. “Okay, but it’s better when I can run with someone.”

 

“Gonna make Duper go run with you,” Geno threatens. “Tired of relax already?”

 

Sid shrugs a little. “Not exactly? I just need to do something other than read all day.”

 

“Maybe we see if ice is still good?” Geno’s voice is hesitant, but he meets Sid’s eyes.

 

Sid lights up. It’s been ages since he’s had a chance to skate on pond ice. “Oh, that would be amazing. I didn’t bring skates, though - do you think we can send one of the guys into town -”

 

“I’m sneak them into bag,” Geno admits, laughing. “Think maybe it’s still cold enough up here.” 

 

“You’re the best,” he says with a happy sigh.

 

“I’m know.”

 

They watch the sunset together, and when they finally go back inside, Geno opens up one of the bottles of wine they’d brought and rummages through the cabinets until he comes up with a few candles. He lights them and pours the wine as Sid prepares a chicken dish his sister had sent him the recipe for at least a year ago.  

 

“Romantic, G,” Sid says, throwing chicken breasts the pan with some butter, lemon, and capers.

 

“I’m like to set the mood,” Geno returns, eyebrows waggling. Sid giggles, and starts chopping up zucchini and squash to go with the chicken. Lemons and garlic are next, and he’s so focused on getting it right that he misses Geno join him in the little kitchen.

 

“Anything I can do to help?” he asks, handing Sid a glass of white wine and leaning against the counter. It’s one of the things that Sid loves most about his husband - he’s always looking out for Sid, always doing a hundred little things to try and make Sid’s life easier. Geno manages it so unobtrusively that sometimes Sid worries that he’s taking Geno for granted, that he’s not nearly as attentive to Geno’s needs in return. 

 

The thought scares him - he never wants his husband to feel unappreciated or ignored. Sid thinks that he may have skirted too close to that. He had been so caught up in his own guilt and frustration that he failed to support his husband. It’s one of the reasons he let Flower and Jen talk him into this vacation, why he stocked up on recipes he wanted to make for Geno - and still, still Geno thinks of him first in a hundred little ways. 

 

“I love you,” he says into his cutting board. It isn’t as though he never says it, but he knows he could say it more often, more freely. He wishes he could say it as much as he thinks it.

 

Geno looks a little startled, but smiles softly. “I’m love you too, Sid. Now drink your wine and let me help.”

 

“No, I’ve got it, really!”

 

“You sure?” 

 

“I’ll maybe let you make the pasta if you’re nice.” Sid slides the veggies into a baking dish and drizzles some olive oil over them, then adds salt and pepper and slides them into the oven. 

 

As soon as he’s got the oven door closed, Geno crowds Sid up against the counter, sliding cool hands up under Sid’s shirt. He shivers, but twists around in Geno’s arms. “I’m always nice,” he croons. “I’m tell you how handsome you are. How good you are for me.”

 

Sid sucks in a breath. “I told you I could be really good,” Sid tries to keep his voice level, but Geno has to be able to feel the way his heart jackrabbits in his chest. Arousal has been fizzling under his skin since this morning, and there’s a part of Sid that wants nothing more than to let Geno push him around and fuck him right now, maybe up against the countertop. 

 

“Yes. So good. Best.” Geno leans in and nibbles on Sid’s neck. 

 

His knees feel a little weak and he  _ wants _ , but dinner’s more than halfway done, and - “I don’t want dinner to burn,” Sid says, regretful.

 

Geno licks his lips and slides his hands a little lower. “Could blow you? Right here in the kitchen. I’m think you like that, maybe.”

 

Sid squirms a little. “It would be bad for your knees?” he argues weakly. Geno’s thumbs rub gently against the soft skin of his hips, and pretty much every part of Sid is interested in this proposition.

 

“Not gonna be there long, I’m think,” he says, brushing one hand along Sid’s hardening dick, and well. Sid’s not going to say  _ no _ to a blowjob. 

 

He glances over at the chicken, simmering away, and then leans back against the countertop. “You’re probably right about that,” Sid agrees, and Geno grins, dropping to his knees. There is no way that the wooden floor can be comfortable, but Geno doesn’t seem to mind at all as he carefully pulls out Sid’s cock. He licks his lips again, and looks up at Sid through his eyelashes before swallowing him down without preamble. It’s showy and sloppy, and Sid is so,  _ so _ embarrassingly into it. He slips a hand into Geno’s hair, thumb brushing across the skin of his cheek, the outline of his dick cushioned in Geno’s mouth. He doesn’t bother biting back the moan building in his throat - there’s no one around to hear him get loud, and he knows that Geno enjoys the noise.

 

Geno anchors himself on Sid’s hips, hands large enough that his fingers brush against Sid’s ass cheeks and just goes for it, humming around Sid’s cock, and  _ god _ , they were both right, there’s no way Sid’s going to last for long. 

 

Sid can feel the wave of his orgasm building, back bowing as it crests and he cries out, hand tightening in Geno’s hair. He swallows every drop, milking Sid until he’s shaking and over sensitive, and Sid has to slap at Geno’s shoulder. Geno pulls off with an obscene  _ pop _ and leans back on his heels. His erection is obvious even through his jeans, and he rubs a palm over himself, like he’s perfectly content and not aching for release. 

 

“Geno -” Sid’s voice is almost as weak as his knees. He wants to get down on the floor with Geno, wants to wrap his hand around Geno’s thick cock and bring him off hard and fast. 

 

“Dinner, Sid,” Geno rasps. 

 

Sid groans, genuinely torn, but Geno doesn’t seem to be in a hurry to get off and the chicken needs to be turned and the pasta started if they’re going to eat some time tonight. He holds out a hand to Geno, who lets himself be pulled to his feet. “Genooo,” he practically whines.

 

Geno just smirks and helps Sid tuck himself back into his pants. “I’m start the pasta now.” 

 

***

 

Despite being distracted, dinner turns out better than Sid could have predicted. The wine compliments the lemon chicken, and the vegetables are roasted and not soggy. He’s feeling pretty pleased with himself, and Geno’s enthusiastic approval doesn’t hurt. 

 

By the time they finish, Sid’s glowing with satisfaction and lingering endorphins and not an insignificant amount of wine. Sid’s still a little aroused from earlier, Geno’s mouth only serving to bank the fire rather than douse it. The incendiary looks Geno keeps sending him haven’t been helping, either. They’re curled together on the couch, watching the fire and finishing the dregs of the wine, and listening to music. It’s calm and quiet, and Sid can’t stop thinking about getting Geno’s dick in him. 

 

“You squirmy,” Geno murmurs in his ear, arm tightening around Sid’s waist. He wants to deny it, but it’d be a bald-faced lie and they both know it. Instead, he pushes back into Geno. 

 

“You said something about wearing me out?” Sid says. 

 

“One orgasm not enough for you?  _ Greedy _ ,” Geno says, delighted. He pats Sid’s hip. “Come on, up. Bedroom this time; I’m not gonna clean the couch again.”

 

“That was  _ your _ idea,” Sid reminds him, but he gets up and Geno smacks his ass. 

 

“Scoot or I’m make you fuck me. No dick for you tonight.”

 

“We could do that instead - “ Sid concedes because while he wants to get fucked, he also loves fucking Geno, too. “I definitely don’t mind.”

 

Geno groans and herds Sid into their little bedroom. “Don’t worry, we do that later, too. But first I’m wear you out just like you want.” 

 

Sid shivers. He kicks off his shoes and socks, and tears off his shirt. He’s about to lose his pants as well when Geno catches his hands and stills them. “I do,” he says, and there’s the familiar hint of stubbornness that Sid fell in love with threading through his voice. “Want to take my time with you.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Yes.” Geno unbuttons Sid’s pants for the second time that night, and together they divest him of his jeans and underwear. Geno’s fingers are light, skimming across Sid’s skin, leaving electricity in his wake. His cock stirs, and Geno brushes past it once, twice, but doesn’t linger. His touch doesn’t linger  _ anywhere _ , just skates along Sid’s hips, up his ribs, across his nipples until he slides his fingers into Sid’s hair.

 

Geno’s lips are soft, but his kiss is fierce, and Sid leans up into it, mouth parting. He tugs at Geno’s shirt until Geno relents and tugs it up and over his head. He shimmies out of his pants without too much prompting, and Sid greedily touches bared skin. Geno laughs, tugging Sid back towards the bed and flopping onto it. Sid resists for a second, but Geno tugs and he’s helpless not to follow, straddling Geno’s lap. 

 

“I’m think you ride me,” Geno says, hands curling around Sid’s hips. Sid can feel Geno’s erection pressed between his cheeks, and he grinds down once, twice, and Geno groans. “Just like that.”

 

“Well, I think I’d prefer you inside me.” He’s aiming for sarcasm, but mostly it just comes out breathy. “But, uh, this works.” 

 

Geno fumbles for the lube he’d  _ apparently _ stashed by his side of the bed, and for a moment, Sid hopes that Geno’s plan for taking his time is going to be reconsidered. As quick as he is to dump lube all over his fingers, Geno still seems intent on taking his sweet time, fingers circling Sid’s hole, massaging at the tight muscle but not pushing in. Sid squirms, trying to get his husband’s fingers where he wants them, but every time he moves, Geno pulls his hand back until he stills again. “Geno - “ he hates the whine in his voice, but he hates the fact that he’s not getting fingered yet even more. 

 

Geno smirks back at him, but  _ finally  _ gives Sid his finger. “I think I like you like this best,” he confesses, stroking Sid in a maddeningly consistent rhythm. He adds another before Sid expects it, and it feels  _ perfect _ \- Sid cries out, slumping forward onto Geno’s chest. He knows the angle must be weird, but Geno doesn’t seem to mind, his rhythm never wavering. “You want  _ so much _ and you let me give you.” He sounds in awe, almost, and Sid bites back a sob into Geno’s chest as he manages to glance Sid’s prostate. “No, Sid. I’m want to hear. Want you to be loud, wild as you want.”

 

He starts varying his tempo, and Sid can’t hope to predict the next electric shock of pleasure. He pants, writhing against Geno, the sensation almost too much. He’s concentrating so hard on trying not to come that he almost misses Geno adding a third finger. “ _ Fuck _ , G, I'm gonna -”

 

Geno backs off just in time. “Shhh, I get you,” he soothes, focusing instead on gently stretching Sid’s rim rather than nailing his prostate, and Sid can only breathe wetly into Geno’s skin, trying to calm himself down. By the time he’s sure he isn’t about to go off like a bottle rocket, Geno’s nudging his cock at Sid’s entrance, warm blunt pressure. “Sid -” Geno’s voice is strained. Sid pushes back, takes what he wants, and relishes in the feeling of Geno’s dick splitting him open. 

 

He takes Geno's cock as deep as he can, wanting to feel that pressure against his prostate again, but Geno’s grip holds him steady, keeps him from going too fast too soon. “You like, I'm know. I’m give you so good, Sid.” Geno’s fingers dig into the flesh of his hips, and Sid knows he’ll have bruises tomorrow.

 

“Ah, f-fuck, yes,” Sid moans. He’s got enough presence of mind to push himself upright again, palms hot and heavy on Geno’s chest, desperate to get the perfect angle. Geno hisses a little, and Sid pinches Geno’s nipples lightly.

 

“Sid -” it’s a warning, and he can’t help but push a little more, rubbing at the sensitive flesh. Geno’s hips twitch, unbidden. “Look at you,” he growls, pulling Sid flush against his groin. “Desperate,  _ greedy _ .” 

 

Sid cries out again, rocking on his cock as Geno guides his movements. Geno keeps talking, English swiftly lost to Russian. His words sink into Sid’s skin as he steadily fucks Sid, unadulterated filth spilling from his lips. Geno’s dark eyes never leave his as Sid slowly loses himself in the moment. Geno shifts under him, angle changing as he gets better leverage, and Sid’s body lights up. He’s frantic with it, completely lost in pleasure, and Sid thrashes wildly until all he can feel is Geno, hot and hard and losing any composure he has left.

 

Geno gasps and wraps his arms around Sid, tugging him down as Geno’s hips stutter. “Fuck, Sid, baby - “ Sid’s not sure if it’s the added pressure on his own aching cock or Geno’s words that finally send him over the edge, white hot pleasure zipping through his nerves as he paints Geno’s stomach with his come. He collapses, completely spent.

 

Geno hums underneath him, hand languidly drifting down Sid’s back and over the swell of his ass. His fingers skirt Sid’s asshole, and he can feel Geno gradually softening inside him. Gently, he pulls the rest of the way out, and that’s a sensation that’s always feel weird. “Can you feel me inside you still?” Geno asks, voice hot against Sid’s ear. He slips the tip of his finger back in, and Sid’s not sure if it’s the sensation that’s too much, or the way Geno’s breathing picks up. “So wet for me, so full.”

 

“Zhenya -” Sid can feel his face flame. He does like it, likes the sweaty, slippery mess that Geno has made of him. He loves the way that Geno can make him lose control, the way he can let himself be completely unguarded, completely at ease. They don’t have sex this way very often, and Sid forgets how  _ overwhelmed _ it leaves him feeling. He buries his face into Geno’s neck. “Thank you,” he manages,quietly, his voice hoarse. 

 

Geno laughs a little. “Always I do for you,” he says. “Anytime you want, it is no trouble.” Geno idylly plays with Sid’s hole until Sid’s twisting, overstimulated. Geno withdraws gently, and Sid focuses on the feeling of Geno’s palm on his back, warm and soothing. “You not wanna go again?” Geno asks, tongue poking out.

 

Sid groans. “You’re gonna kill me. If I thought I could get it up again -”

 

“When you do, you know what I want,” he grins, patting Sid’s ass. “Your ass not the only one that need attention.”

 

Sid presses a kiss to his husband’s collarbone. “I, uh. I think that can be arranged.” They lay there for a few more minutes before being messy starts to feel more disgusting than satisfying for Sid. He levers himself up, careful not to put all of his weight on Geno, and makes his way to the en suite. He can tell he’s going to feel it tomorrow - the soreness of muscles well used. If he maybe swaggers a little bit because of it, well. It’s worth for the wolf-whistle that follows him into the bathroom. 

 

***

 

Sid wakes up slowly, like rising from the depths of a pond. He’s a little disoriented once he’s finally awake, the first thing he notices is that there’s a lot more light trickling through the curtains than he’s used to. He’s also warm and cozy, and curled around Geno, so he’s not too concerned.

 

“Sid?” Geno’s voice is soft, like he’s not sure if Sid’s really awake yet, and the warmth in his chest blossoms. 

 

He nuzzles the back of Geno’s neck, presses little kisses to the sleep-warm skin there and enjoys the way Geno’s breath stutters. “Morning,” Sid says, smiling into Geno’s neck.

 

Geno grumbles, but it mostly just sounds content. “It’s late. I’m finally wear you out, hm?” He wiggles his hips back a little and Sid takes that for the invitation it is. 

 

“Mmm, maybe. I could thank you,” he offers with another kiss.

 

“Hm.” Geno presses his ass into the cradle of Sid’s hips again and Sid rewards him with a gentle bite to the knob of bone where Geno’s neck meets the strong slope of his shoulders. 

 

“I know what you want,” he parrots Geno’s words from last night back at him and slides a hand over Geno’s bare hip to rest in the thick curls surrounding Geno’s cock.

 

“Then give to me,” Geno murmurs. He twists around just enough to capture Sid’s mouth in a sweet kiss and they really ought to get up and brush their teeth before they start this, but Geno whines faintly into his mouth, and Sid can deal with a little bit of morning breath for the way Geno grinds his ass against Sid’s dick again. “Please, Sid.”

 

“G -” he has to close his eyes against the feeling welling up in his chest. “Always.”

 

They fuck like that, Sid spooned up behind Geno, syrupy slow in the morning light. Geno pulls his leg up to his chest, flexible in the kind of way that makes Sid’s mouth water every time he gets to witness it - it makes him want to go a little harder, a little faster, but the angle keeps it slow. Instead, he fucks Geno deep, balls snugged against his ass, arm pinning Geno’s leg to his chest.

 

Every noise he drags out of Geno feels like a benediction. “ _ Siiiid _ ,” he moans, one huge hand latching onto Sid’s wrist, the other scrabbling behind him, and Sid tangles their fingers together before Geno can strain his shoulder. 

 

“Shh, I got you, Zhenya.” He grinds in again and again, and Geno  _ wails _ . Sid’s so close, pleasure building in the base of his spine. He gropes for Geno’s cock, determined to bring him off first, only to find that he’s already come, untouched, jizz coating his dick. Sid feels wild, dragging his hand back to stroke Geno’s balls, to press a slick thumb against where his dick holds Geno open.

 

Geno shudders, hole clenching. “Fuck, S- _ Sid _ .”

 

Sid gasps, his orgasm rolling through him, slow and powerful. They’re both completely wrecked, panting and sweaty. The morning light is a little stronger through the curtains, and Sid could get up - he probably  _ should _ get up, but it’s so much easier to sink into the way his body feels, languid and boneless. The heat of Geno snuggling against him, the way their hands are still clasped together - Sid lets his eyes close and he drifts off a moment later.

 

***

 

When he wakes up again, it’s to the smell of breakfast cooking. He grabs another quick shower - just enough to rinse off before he makes his way into the kitchen. He’s as sore as he thought he might be, but it’s hard not to relish the feeling. Geno turns from scrambled eggs enough to give him a slow, sweet smile. 

 

“Coffee on the counter, lazybones.”

 

Sid grins and presses himself against Geno for a quick hug, planting a kiss on his shoulder. “I finally sleep in and now I’m lazy, huh?”

 

Geno pokes his tongue out. “Well, I did wear you out. Maybe not your fault.”

 

“Mhm.” Sid settles in with his coffee and watches Geno make their breakfast, content down to his bones. 

 

Relaxing has never been Sid’s strong suit, but it’s easier when he’s got Geno to curl up with and no place to be or emails to read or crises to deal with. They read for a while and Geno eventually throws on a movie that they both pay nominal attention to. They invite Tanger and Duper over for lunch, partially so Sid can sucker one of them into running with him afterwards and partially to give the rest of their skeleton security team a break from Tanger’s intensity and Duper’s tendency towards practical jokes when he’s been cooped up for too long. 

 

Duper gives in to Sid’s wheedling pretty easily, and it’s nice to get out and burn off a little energy jogging around the island’s perimeter. The air is crisp turning steadily colder as they run, and by the time they’re rounding back towards the cabin, the sky has started darkening, clouds building ominously over the lake.

 

“We’re supposed to be getting a pretty big storm rolling through,” Duper grumbles, eyeballing the sky. “No more jogging, kid. I think my knees are going to give out on me and I don’t want to navigate that walkway in the snow.” 

 

Sid rolls his eyes because Duper’s arguably in better shape than Sid is, but he stops anyway. He stands on the porch and takes a moment to survey the lake. He’s positive he can smell snow on the air, and he’s completely delighted by it. “Maybe we should bring in some more firewood, eh?”

 

Duper huffs a laugh. “You’re looking forward to this, aren’t you?”

 

Sid shrugs, but doesn’t bother hiding his smile. “Well, if we get snowed in, I won’t have to see your ugly mug for a few days.”

 

“Oh ha ha, I’m sure. I’m beautiful and you know it.” 

 

The screen door on the cabin creaks open, and Geno pokes his head out. “Pascal why you tell so many lies?” He steps out and into Sid’s space, and Sid relaxes into Geno’s touch. “Tanger radioed to say there’s blizzard coming,” Geno rumbles, one arm slung over Sid’s shoulders. Duper rolls his eyes.

 

“Okay lovebirds. Last call - do you want help with the firewood or not? Because I’m sure that the boys could use my help back at the cabins if I need to leave you two alone.”

 

Sid almost says yes, but it will go faster with an extra set of hands. “No, no. Let’s go ahead and get it carried inside.”

 

They make quick work of it, and Duper’s on his way back to the main cabin as the first fat snowflakes start to fall with strict instructions to call if they need anything. Sid and Geno wave at him until he’s mostly out of sight, then Geno shivers theatrically. 

 

“Cold, Sid.”

 

The temperature has continued to drop while they were working, but Sid has yet to feel it. “You can go on in if you want. I’ll be in in a moment.” He wants to watch the snow start to build up, to see the snowflakes eddy in the breeze the storm’s kicked up.

 

Geno sighs dramatically, but instead of going in, he cuddles up closer until he’s practically wrapped around Sid. “I’m think maybe no skating today.”

 

“Probably not tomorrow, either,” Sid agrees. He’d been looking forward to it, but they’ll still have a few more days to maybe take to the lake. And if they can’t make it, he resolves to make sure that Flower blocks them both off some time at a local rink once they get back home. 

 

“Hmph.” Geno’s breath is warm on the back of Sid’s neck, and together they watch the snow fall.

 

***

 

Their days start to fall into a pattern - they sleep, they read, they take turns cooking - Geno enjoys making their lunches and letting Sid mostly take care of dinner. They catch up on movies and TV shows that they haven’t been able to see in the past year or so. Most of the time Sid still wakes up first, but Geno’s pleased to note that he seems to linger in bed a little longer in the mornings. 

 

They also have mind-blowing sex, which - Geno hadn’t given it much thought when Flower had called this their honeymoon, but it definitely feels like one. Sid fucks Geno in the tub, against the wall - Geno fucks him on the kitchen counter, fingers him on the rug in front of the fireplace - Geno doesn’t remember the last time they’ve had  _ this much sex _ , especially without fear of interruption. He keeps expecting his libbido to calm down, but then Sid will do something like bend over in his threadbare sweatpants or send him these  _ looks _ and, well. He’s not 20 anymore, but he’s doing his best. 

 

He’s the most relaxed he’s been in years, and he’s pretty sure that Sid feels the same way, for all that he gets a little bit of cabin fever. The blizzard keeps Sid mostly inside for the next two days, though he likes to pop out and tramp around in the snow occasionally. Geno is more than content to let him - he’d much rather stay inside near the fireplace and alternate between napping and reading. He’d found some of those Sudoku/crossword puzzle activity books jammed in the coffee table and keeps torturing himself periodically trying to get through them. 

 

Geno knows that they’re eventually going to need to revisit their heir situation. He keeps thinking that Sid will bring it up, but he hasn’t yet. Geno  _ should _ bring it up, but he can never seem to find the right time for it. Being here has established a fragile sort of equilibrium, and Geno doesn’t want to break that yet. 

 

He hadn’t been lying before - he doesn’t mind the thought of adopting. Geno’s wanted kids since he wasn’t much more than a kid himself, tied to a country that wasn’t his, to a man that he barely knew - due in part because he’s supposed to be able to produce an heir. Not being able to stings. He’d been able to joke about it with Sid, been able to push his doubts aside in the face of his husband’s immediate, visceral rebuttal of the rumors floating around that Geno’s position as Consort was in danger. But it’s hard not to to feel like he’s failing his adopted country and worse, that he’s failing Sid. 

 

He hears Sid’s boots stomping up the porch stairs, and resolves himself once more to a conversation he doesn’t want to have. In the meantime, though, he thinks they could both use a hot cocoa.

 

***

 

By the time Thursday rolls around, it’s finally clear enough for Duper to give them clearance to skate. When he realized that he wasn’t going to get his tropical island vacation, Geno had figured he could at least do this for Sid. 

 

They take a few thermoses and a pile of quilts out to the edge of the island where the security team had already picked out a spot they’d deemed appropriately solid. It’s a little insulting, but he understands the abundance of caution - they’re a ways out from civilization here, and the thought of Sid falling through the ice makes Geno’s heart a little frantic. Next to him on the blanket, Sid’s almost trembling with eagerness as he laces up his skates. Patric’s drawn the short straw of watching them, and he settles in with his own thermos and one of the adirondack chairs they’d hauled down from the porch.

 

“Ready?” Sid asks him, clambering to his feet. Geno takes his hand and lets Sid pull him upright. There’s no graceful way to get to the ice, but they waddle down without falling and that’s good enough for Geno. Sid hits the ice first, and Geno lets his hand go long enough to give him a solid slap to the ass as he takes his first stride. Sid doesn’t even stumble, just laughs, the sound echoing loud across the frozen lake, and Geno follows him onto the ice.

 

“You know I’m used to sneak out a lot,” he says when he catches up to Sid. 

 

“Oh yeah?” Sid swivels, skating backwards effortlessly. “When you were a teenager?”

 

Geno shakes his head, then flushes a little because, well - “Yes, but when I was little - I’m used to sneak out from lessons as soon as the water freeze.”

 

Sid bites his lip, grinning. “Really? To go skating?”

 

Geno uses the length of his stride to catch up to Sid, getting close enough that he can tangle their hands together again and sending them into a slow spin. “Yes. I’m get  _ so excited _ that I have to go right then. Mama and Papa get so mad at me the first couple of times it happen, but finally they make sure I get a little time every day for skate. I’m make Denis and cousins all come and play with me, too - they very mad, but I’m too cute to say no to.”

 

Sid giggles. “I bet you were. I got lucky - I didn’t have to sneak out too much, but my parents always had to drag me off of the ice. Until I was ten, I used to insist that I was going to be a hockey player when I grew up.”

 

Geno laughs at that - the Queen Mother had shown him enough pictures of Sid growing up that it’s easy to picture his round, serious features stubbornly set on playing for hockey for the rest of his life. It’s so easy then to imagine a miniature Sid - to envision someone with Sid’s eyes and Geno’s chin, who’s that perfect mixture of the two of them - of teaching them how to skate, how to ride a bike and how to make proper tea. 

 

He’s so caught up in his vision of the future that offers no resistance to Sid tugging him along the ice until he calls Geno’s name.

 

“You ok? You kind of spaced out there, G.”

 

He meets Sid’s gaze - soft, concerned, curious, and takes a deep breath. “I’m want a baby, Sid.” It’s hard to let go of the possibility of a child that shares their genes. It’s harder, Geno realizes, to give up the idea of ever being a parent. 

 

Sid sucks in a breath and they slowly drift to a stop. “I - I want that too, Geno. I want that more than almost anything.”

 

“I’m know we talk before - but what if I’m never have? You still want me then? Country still want me, then?”

 

“ _ Zhenya _ \- I could never - I love you  _ so much _ ,” Sid says, looking as gutted and Geno feels. “Even if Parliament wanted me to, I would never give you up.” His hands squeeze Geno’s tight. “I don’t care. You said before that however we have kids, that they’d be  _ ours _ . If you...if you still mean that -”

 

“Of course I’m still mean, I just - I don’t want to wait anymore. I’m want to give you babies, Sid. But if it never happen - I don’t want to be too old to be a papa.”

 

Sid swallows hard. “I was so worried that I was the one letting you down. That maybe I’m the problem. Or with all the media bullshit that you’d finally decide that the pressure, the scrutiny was too much -”

 

“ _ Sidney _ .”

 

Sid shakes his head, rueful. “I know.” He catches Geno’s gaze. “I don’t think there’s ever been an adopted heir before, but we can start the process when we get back? If you want this, then we’ll make it happen.”

 

Geno takes a deep breath, exhales slowly. It feels final, but it doesn’t feel like giving up, not like he thought it would. “Yes. We do.”

 

Sid’s smile is slow and a little tremulous. “Okay. Okay, G.”

 

“Okay.” He licks his lips. “Maybe we keep trying the old-fashioned way, too, though.”

 

Sid laughs, and Geno will never get tired of that sound. “Yeah, I’m...I’m good with that. You never know.”

 

Geno grins and kisses Sid lightly. “Mhm. Maybe also we do a charity skate next winter?” They might have a baby by then - or maybe a toddler depending on the adoption agency. Geno knows first-hand the number of toddlers and children who need homes, and he doesn’t think he’d mind an older child. 

 

“Yeah, I think that could be fun.” Sid tries to skate backwards again, but Geno beats him to it, and this time, he drags Sid along after him. Sid goes along with it willingly enough for the moment, but Geno knows better than to trust that it’ll stay that way for long. Give and take, compromise, he thinks.

 

***

 

Their arrival back in the capital heralds the end of the week-long anniversary celebrations, culminating in a grand parade through the streets and a banquet. Sid is pretty positive that Flower arranged that solely as a subtle fuck-you for all the problems Sid and Geno put him through in the past month.

 

It’s all worth it for the renewed ease between him and Geno. 

 

No one’s quite sure how to take the news that Sid and Geno are looking into adoption - there’s no precedent for a royal couple adopting with the intent to have that child succeed to the throne. But if there’s one thing that Sid’s learned over the years, it’s the power of preservation. Just because there isn’t precedent doesn’t mean he won’t make it happen. 

 

He doesn’t know how long the process will take, but with Geno at his side, it almost doesn’t matter. Sid can see their future stretching out before them.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is a small complication of sorts.

Neither of them were expecting the morning sickness.

 

Geno wakes up on a Tuesday morning in mid-May with nausea strong enough to send him stumbling out of their bed and into their bathroom. Geno can count on one hand the number of times he’s thrown up before, and it’s easy to blame the shrimp they’d had for dinner last night. He rubs his guts carefully, hoping that will be the last of it. He’s awake even before Sid, and that’s never a good feeling. 

 

He gives it another few minutes, but the nausea seems to have passed. Geno rinses his mouth out, and crawls back into bed. Sid stirs a little, but Geno doesn’t bother to wake him. He’ll be fine in the morning, he’s sure.

 

Except it happens again the next day as Conor brings them their breakfast. He makes it to the bathroom, just barely, and Sid follows him, concern writ large on his face. 

 

“You okay, G?”

 

“Something I eat,” Geno manages. Sid wets a washcloth and rubs his back, and Geno hopes this is the last of it.

 

It’s not. Thursday afternoon finds him puking in some shrubbery, and fortunately, the only witness is Conor, whom he swears to secrecy.

 

When the smell of Sid’s 5:00 PB&J sets him off, Geno has to admit that it’s probably not bad shrimp. The alternative, though - he can’t bear to bring himself to hope. What he can do, though, is pull Conor aside and send him on a discrete errand. 

 

Geno almost feels bad about the complete deer-in-headlights look that Conor shoots him. Almost. Geno’s sure as hell not going to run down to the Shopper’s Drug Mart and pick up his own pregnancy test. They just got the media frenzy vaguely calmed down. And he doesn’t want go to the palace physician just yet- he’s not sure he can handle another trip to the doctor to be told he’s still not pregnant. 

 

Conor looks incredibly flustered when he gets back, but he does shove a plastic bag into Geno’s hands. 

 

“You won’t tell -” Geno starts, because he trusts Conor, but he needs to make sure.

 

“I know the drill Your Highness,” Conor says, looking pretty much anywhere but at Geno’s face. “Will that be all?”

 

Geno nods, and hesitates for a second before adding, “Thank you.”

 

“ _ Please _ don’t mention it, Your Highness,” Conor squeaks before making his escape. 

 

In their bathroom, Geno stares balefully between the little stick and his cock, which, despite the large amount of tea he’d had earlier, is being incredibly unhelpful. What a time to have a shy bladder. 

 

Eventually, his body cooperates and Geno’s left sitting on the edge of the tub, waiting.

 

***

 

“ _ Sid _ .”

 

Sidney looks up from Flower’s latest stack of reports to find Geno, wild-eyed and panting. It looks like he’d run all the way from their wing of the palace, and Sid’s up and out of his chair to meet Geno. 

 

“Are you okay? What’s the matter?” He doesn’t know if he’s ever seen Geno this flustered and out of sorts. Geno bowls into Sid, flinging his arms around Sid’s neck.

 

“Sid!” He bursts into a torrent of Russian, and Sid can only catch one or two words out of it, but what he does hear -

 

“G... _ Zhenya _ \- are you...did I -”

 

“ _ Pregnant _ , Sid,” Geno croons into his ear. “ _ Baby _ .”

 

Sid feels his heart stop for a moment. “Are you sure?” 

 

“Need to go to doctor to be sure, but I’m take pee stick test and it says we pregnant, Sid!” He squeezes Sid, and Sid hugs him back, breathless from the enormity of it all. 

 

“I’m so -  _ shit _ , I’m so happy, but…”

 

Geno pulls back to search Sid’s face. “What ‘but,’ Sid. We’re gonna have a baby.”

 

And that’s everything they’ve wanted, everything they’ve hoped for, but - Sid exhales. “Zhenya,  _ we’re _ pregnant.”

 

“Yes, I’m say, Sid.”

 

“No, we’re... _ I’m _ pregnant, too. We’re both pregnant.”

 

Sid honestly never thought it was possible. He’d been tested for the gene when he was younger, and they were certain that  _ getting  _ pregnant wasn’t going to be in the cards for Sid. It was one of the reasons he’d been matched with Geno.

 

He’d been feeling exhausted and sick for almost a week before he scheduled an appointment with Dr. Vyas. He assumed it was a cold or something, or that he’d maybe picked up whatever had been bothering Geno. When he tried to give Sid a pregnancy test at first, Sid refused - there wasn’t any point, he was sure. His symptoms persisted though, and finally he agreed. The first test had come back positive, but Sid was still skeptical. He’s still waiting on the results from the blood test, but he  _ knows _ .

 

Geno looks as shocked as Sid had felt. “...Both...Sid. You don't tell me?”

 

“I wanted to be sure. I thought it had to be something else - I shouldn’t - this shouldn’t be possible.”

 

Geno chuckles a little wetly. “Always have to do the impossible, Sid.”

 

He frames Geno’s waist with his hands. “Only with you, Zhenya.”

 

“ _ Fuck _ ,” Geno hiccups. “Only  _ us _ .” He presses a sloppy kiss against Sid’s temple, and Sid brushes his thumbs over Geno’s still-flat stomach and can’t believe that this is his life.

 

Marc-Andre finds them sometime later, still wrapped up in each other. It’s a miracle they aren’t just slumped against each other in a pile on the floor. Sid’s knees are like jelly, and Geno keeps trembling against him. 

 

“What the hell is happening in here? Did the lobster harvest forecast finally make Sid crack?” He sounds flippant, but Sid can hear the genuine worry in his advisor’s tone. 

 

He takes a deep breath and meets Geno’s gaze. His husband nods and together they face Flower. Flower narrows his eyes at them both suspiciously.

 

“You’re going to tell me something that’s going to make my job harder, aren’t you?”

 

“We’re still waiting on tests, but uh -” Sid starts.

 

“We’re pregnant, Flower,” Geno finishes, looking incredibly smug.

 

Maybe it’s a little dramatic, Sid thinks, but it’s entirely worth it for the expression on Flower’s face.

 

“What the  _ fuck _ was in the water in that cabin?”

 

***

 

Of all the possible scenarios Geno could have predicted, him and Sid ending up knocked up at the same time was definitely not on the list. He’s still having trouble believing that, after all of the years of trying,  _ he’s _ finally pregnant. Geno had had to look at the blood test results a few times before it really sunk in. 

 

It still feels a little like a dream.

 

But Sid - any frustration Geno might have felt at Sid for not telling him his suspicions, well. Geno had had reservations about his own potential pregnancy. Sid’s is even more shocking. It’s a blessing and a miracle, and Geno has no idea what they’re going to do.

 

When they crawl into bed that night, Geno tries to imagine the both of them months from now, huge and round and trying not to roll into each other in the night. Sid will complain about his ankles being swollen and Geno will moan about his back. It’s thrilling and terrifying all at the same time

 

Sid curls in close once they’re both situated, and Geno lifts his arm to tuck Sid against his chest. “I’m scared,” he finally says, so quiet that Geno almost misses it. 

 

“I’m a little scared, too,” he says. “I can’t believe it finally happens.”

 

“I can’t believe we’re  _ both  _ knocked up,” Sid groans. “The odds - “ He sighs. 

 

Geno tangles his fingers into Sid’s hair, suddenly unsure. “You not want?” 

 

“What?  _ No _ !” Sid gets an elbow underneath him so that he can look at Geno. “No, I’m...I’m really happy. There’s just a lot that we’re going to have to deal with.”

 

“Together we deal with anything, Sid. You know this.”

 

Sid’s eyes go soft and he kisses Geno. “I know. There’s just so much that can go wrong with male gestation -”

 

“I’m know, but any pregnancy can be dangerous.” He’s read a thousand pieces of literature on it, read a hundred websites he probably shouldn’t have - been lectured by his mother, his doctor about all the possibilities when they’d first started really trying to conceive. 

 

“What if something goes wrong with both pregnancies? It’s...irresponsible for both of us to be at risk - “ he spits out the word.

 

“We have some of the best doctors in the world. Always gonna be risks, Sid.”

 

“I don’t want the media to turn this into some kind of narrative -”

 

“What did we just go through? We know media always gonna find something. You selfish for having a baby, too. I’m destroy the Canadian royal family because i’m knock you up.” Geno rolls his eyes and tugs Sid down until he rest on Geno’s chest. They may not be able to do this for much longer, and Geno is increasingly excited by that prospect. “Media never gonna be happy. Don’t want to adopt an heir, get mad we do the old fashioned way, too I’m sure.”

 

That’s enough to draw a laugh out of Sid. “Yeah, okay. I know I’m being ridiculous.” He’s quiet for long enough that Geno startles when he speaks again. “What - what about the adoption?”

 

Geno blinks. Their adoption plans have been moving at a snail’s pace thanks to pushback from the Parliament. News of their impending fatherhood could mean leaving that particular headache behind. For a moment, he genuinely considers it. 

 

“We’re so close, Sid,” he says finally. And for all the pushback and negativity they’ve been getting, Geno’s sure that they’re going to give in before too long.

 

“We are,” he says neutrally, eyes fixed on Geno’s throat. Geno rolls his eyes, but appreciates that Sid wants his genuine opinion. 

 

“It’s more than just us, I’m think.” He taps his fingers against the meat of Sid’s shoulder. “But also - maybe we think adoption because I can’t have babies. But I’m...I still want to adopt. Maybe it wasn’t first choice, but it’s not a backup plan, either.” 

 

Sid presses a kiss to his collarbone. “Okay, Zhenya. Me too.”

 

Geno feels something settle in his chest. “Maybe we get a call from America tell us stop hogging all the babies,” Geno adds, and Sid gives in a giggles. 

 

“Phil would.”

 

***

 

They only get a few days to themselves with the news before Flower and Jen insist that they call their immediate household staff and the rest of the PR staff together. They congregate in the parlor that Sid had dubbed “The Situation Room” not long after he took the crown - a smaller, cozier space that they can use for more intimate meetings. 

 

Geno settles onto one of the couches and tugs Sid down next to him. His husband looks vaguely disgruntled at the whole ordeal for reasons that Geno suspects have to do with another imminent invasion of their privacy.

 

“First things first -” Marc starts once everyone has found seating. “Congratulations are in order for their Majestys - as it stands, we can look forward to welcoming two new members of the royal family in the new year.”

 

The unrestrained applause and cheers from the group goes a long way towards relaxing the tension in Sid’s shoulders. Conor even looks a little misty-eyed. 

 

“We’re all very happy for you both,” Flower continues once the ruckus has died down. “But as with any major event that affect the Crown, we need to make sure that we have plans in place as the pregnancies progress. Your Highness?”

 

Sid stands. “Thank you all for your support. We called you here because things may get a little hectic in the upcoming months. We are not currently announcing our pregnancies to the public at large. As I’m sure you’re all aware, there tends to be higher risks associated with male gestation, and we’d like to get through the first trimester or so before we make our news available to those outside of our immediate family and friends.”

 

“Unlucky,” Geno says, standing to join Sid, one hand secured against the base of his spine. Everyone chuckles, and Sid rolls his eyes, but doesn’t deny it. “We trust you,” Geno continues more seriously. “When I’m come here first, you all make me feel so welcome - you’re our family here, too. And we’re gonna need your help in the coming months again with media, with me when I’m get fat and can’t tie shoes.”

 

That gets another chuckle, but Geno knows this group, knows that they can be trusted. He feels the last of the tension leave Sid’s spine, and it’s easy to believe that they’re going to be okay. 

 

***

 

They actually manage to control the narrative for their pregnancies, which Sid genuinely wasn’t expecting to happen. Flower and Jen arrange the press conference in August, just after Sid’s twenty-ninth birthday, and about a month after Parliament finally relents their opposition to royal adoptions. They’re past the first trimester, and Dr. Tosch, the OB-GYN they’d brought on on Dr. Vyas’s recommendation had given them her approval. 

 

“Everything is going extraordinarily well for you both,” she’d announced at their last visit. “I admit, I was a little concerned given Evgeni’s age and the...unexpected nature of your own pregnancy, but I think that if you’d like to start telling other people, it’s about as safe as it can be.”

 

They both know that there are still plenty things that could go wrong, but soon it will be almost impossible to hide their growing stomachs - Geno’s already showing more than Sid, his long frame doing little to conceal his baby bump, and if they want to keep hiding, they’ll have to start curtailing public appearances, including the trips they’ve been making to various orphanages around the country.

 

So they stand together in front of the media because they can, because this way they get to own how this new chapter of their life starts. 

 

Together, they step up to the podium. 

 

“Thank you all for joining us today. We are excited to announce that both His Royal Highness Evgeni Vladimirovich Malkin and I are expecting. We are beyond thrilled to share with you all this unexpected blessing, and we thank you for respecting our privacy as we begin to prepare for the new additions to the royal family.”

 

The silence lasts for a full thirty seconds before the questions start. Hidden by the podium, Geno squeezes Sid’s hand.

 

“Your Majesties, could I get some clarification as to who is expecting?”

 

Sid shoots Geno a look. “We both are,” he says carefully into the microphone. The murmurs start up again. The questions come fast and furious, and Sid answers each of them as quickly and as succinctly as possible - contingency plans and changes, due dates, names, their health.

 

“Your Majesties - we heard last month that Parliament passed the resolution that would allow for the adoption of a royal heir - with the news today, has that resolution become obsolete already?”

 

It’s Geno who answers, taking control of the microphone for the first time. “Many things we learn over the years. Most important to us is that family is family. Adoption is not...contingency plan for us.”

 

“We haven’t changed our plans regarding adopting,” Sid adds.

 

“We always say we want a big family,” Geno says. “We’re fortunate enough to get it all at once.” 

 

They end the presser on that note, and Sid looks at his husband fondly. He’d never imagined he’d be  _ this _ lucky, to find someone who suited him so completely, to have a family like this. They walk out hand in hand, and Sid presses in close. For someone who’s a public figure, Sid’s always been a private person. He values what little that he can keep truly personal. Over the last ten years, a big part of that has been his relationship with Geno. 

 

“I love you,” he says as they exit. It’s not the first time he’s ever said it in public by any means, but Sid thinks it might be the first time that he genuinely hasn’t cared if the media overhears him.

 

Geno smiles down at him, and the light in his eyes is everything to Sid. “I’m love you, too.”


End file.
